Mage Prime (Book 2) (4 page)

He was never able to say for certain which came first, the tell-tale prickling of his skin or the unspeakably distinctive odour. Apprehension and recognition joined forces and slammed into him like a battering ram. He stopped, not daring to move. Shifting his gaze around, he strained his hearing to the limit. The prickling of his skin subsided but remnants of the odour still drifted to him on the chill night air. In seconds he had formed a plan and made a decision. In order to avoid any kind of movement which might betray his presence, Karryl felt he had no option but to translocate, even though he was fully aware that such a procedure was not recommended more than twice in one day. He just hoped that Vintar was the guard commander, and that he hadn’t moved any of the furniture in the guardroom. Consoling himself with the fact that the barracks was only a few hundred yards away, he visualised the interior of the guard-room and gave himself a mental push.

To Karryl’s immense relief, Vintar was sitting behind a plain wooden desk writing what appeared to be a very lengthy report. He had been stationed at the Royal barracks long enough to be relatively unsurprised by anything he might see, although a couple of the fire piquets thought Karryl’s arrival worthy of comment.

Putting down his quill, the sergeant raised an enquiring eyebrow. “‘Evening Master Karryl. Does your unusual mode of transport signal trouble?”

Karryl hauled in a great gulp of air. “It rather looks that way. I think there may be another one at least, somewhere near the rear entrance to the palace kitchens. I haven’t actually seen anything but I certainly recognised the smell.”

An angry murmuring began to rumble from the squad of about a dozen guards who had been preparing to change duty but had now closed up around their sergeant. One of them, a bull-necked solidly built man, pushed to the front.

His eyes gleaming, his whole body bristling with the desire for vengeance, he grimaced into Vintar’s face “Let’s get this one Sarge. It’s probably kin to the ones that did for Matt.”

Vintar swiftly detailed two of the soldiers to don their half-armour, grab their weapons and hurry to the palace to reinforce the already heavy guard protecting King Vailin. By the time the pair were running through the door, Vintar and the remainder of the squad were out of fatigues and into their own armour, a resolute grip on their weapons and ready to be away.

Vintar moved to stand beside Karryl, a grimly determined expression on his rugged face. “I know you’re not a fighting man, not in our sense of the word, but is there anything you can do to help us?”

Karryl had been giving this some thought during the short time the soldiers had taken to get ready. “I don’t know of anything that will be effective against that black brew they spout from their throats. I think the best thing I can do for a start is cast a spell of silence over all of us. At least that will give us some element of surprise. Providing you all stay reasonably close for as long as possible you’ll be able to hear each other, but you won’t be heard by anyone, or anything, else. The tactics I’ll leave to you.”

The men of the squad exchanged uncertain glances. Vintar frowned. “What’s the range of this silence?”

Karryl made a brief study of the little sea of grim faces which turned towards him. “Each man will have about five paces all around him, so any one man can separate from the others and still be covered. Two men can stand eight to ten paces apart and still be within the shield of silence. It’s a pretty powerful spell.”

A growl of approval issued from the assembled squad. Vintar gave an affirmative nod, and Karryl began the spell. Realising that the men would be expecting him to actually do something, the young magician added the accepted gestures as he wove the spell, even though he didn’t really need them. Spell completed, he lowered his hands, crossed the room and opened the door.

As he strode towards it Vintar barked over his shoulder. “Right, lads, let’s kill the bastard!”

* * *

As they pounded in a steady jog-trot up the hill from the barracks towards the palace grounds, Karryl did a mental search of all the spells he knew or had read. He had to find something which could be used against the venomous black bile which seemed to be the grelfons’ chief weapon. The squad had almost reached the place where the main path was joined by the narrower one to the kitchen entrance. Giving the signal to halt, Karryl dropped into a crouch.

Vintar moved forward and dropped down beside him. “What is it?”

Karryl nodded towards the hilltop, its outline curving darkly against the marginally lighter sky. “I saw something move up there. It’s probably seen us coming, but hopefully it’s confused because it can’t hear us. Also, I’ve had an idea, so could I make a suggestion?”

The burly sergeant, who almost five years ago had led his squad on a night-time rescue of the young man now crouching beside him, gave a noncommittal grunt. “Yes, you can. But if it’s tactics, I’ll make a suggestion. Leave it to us. What have you got in mind?”

Still in a crouch, the young magician indicated that he and Vintar should turn round. The pair turned, and with as much haste as they could muster, duck-walked back to the rest of the squad, crouched in low profile about eight paces behind them. Karryl bit back a curse. The stark profile of the barracks stood darkly against the first pale light of a newly rising moon. With the whole scene soon to be bathed in moonlight this would not be easy.

Not bothering to lower his voice, he outlined the plan that was in his mind. “I’m going to try a spell which, I’ll be quite honest with you, I’ve never done before. So I hope you’ll understand if it goes a bit awry.”

A couple of the men shuffled uncomfortably, their half-armour clinking almost unnaturally loudly in the cocoon of silence. Another one, his voice edged with humour, called quietly to him. “Go on, we’ll trust you!”

Slightly embarrassed by the impromptu camaraderie, Karryl looked at the ground. “I think I can suspend the creature’s black spray if a couple of you would be willing to get close enough to tempt it to open its mouth and retaliate. Bear in mind that I’ll be as close as you are. If no-one’s willing, I’ll have to go it alone. The only other thing I can say is that, in theory, it can be done. How you actually orchestrate this little scenario is up to Sergeant Vintar.”

The sergeant leaned close to Karryl. “Right. Leave this to me now. I’ve got a good idea how we can do this, but I want you to stay at a safe distance until I give you the nod.” He gave a dry chuckle. “I’ve been on the wrong end of Master Symon’s wrath before. If something happens to you, he’s going to be unbearable.”

Karryl shuffled backwards and crouched, listening carefully as Vintar outlined his plan of attack, detailing each man to a position which would keep him within the bounds of the spell of silence. With a brief nod the sergeant confirmed readiness, and the two of them turned round. At that moment, anything they may have been planning went straight out the window. Wings raised, the grelfon stood just feet away from the squad, the reptilian head thrust menacingly forward, the dark planes and shadows of its deep ridged brow adding further menace to the unblinking glare of its slanted yellow eyes. The straight black-lipped mouth was closed.

A slightly tremulous voice carried from the rear of the squad. “Uh-oh! Too late.”

Vintar hissed a warning and gave his orders without turning. “Very slowly, all spread out. As we are we’re just one big target. If anyone can manage to get behind it, so much the better. Master Karryl, I don’t think the spell of silence is necessary any more. You might need the power for the other thing.”

Karryl shuffled up beside the sergeant. “Just what I was thinking, but we’ll leave it there for a while longer. It’ll give your men chance to get round behind it if they can. Have you decided who’s going to be the bait?”

Vintar shot him a flinty glance. “I am.”

Karryl’s heart sank. If this worked, it would be the second time he’d be thanking Vintar for saving his life. As it turned out, his own quick thinking was responsible for that. The grelfon had spotted two of the soldiers trying to creep stealthily past its left side. It swung its head towards them and Karryl seized the opportunity. Dropping flat onto his stomach, he cancelled the spell of silence, simultaneously sending a narrow shaft of dazzling light blasting seven feet upwards, directly into the monstrous creature’s right eye. Its ground-shaking roar of pain shattered the night’s stillness as the tapered head swung round, huge jaws opened wide to spout a boiling stream of deadly black and viscous foulness in Karryl’s direction. In that instant the prone magician released a unique combination of two powerful holding spells. Strong enough to keep the vile discharge suspended in mid air, they still left the creature free to move. Karryl was a split second ahead of it. Inverting the previous spells, he shook with exhaustion and revulsion as the super-hot stinking black fluid instantly twisted back in a fiercely undulating glutinous mass. With a loud and wet-sounding slap, it enveloped the malevolently glaring yellow eyes. Ear-splitting screams of frustration and rage rose high into the night air as the grelfon dropped to its scaly knees. Membranous wings thrashing against the ground, the wickedly hooked and barbed talons of its front limbs clawed frantically at its face in a vain effort to free itself of the vile agglomeration eating into its flesh. With no immunity to its own poison the creature was doomed.

Vintar leapt up from his crouch and drew his sword. Tension releasing in a blood-curdling scream of anger and hatred he charged forward, the weapon’s hilt grasped in both hands. He dodged to his left, a quick side-step taking him out of range of the huge flailing wings. With a powerful overhead down-stroke he sent the long two-edged blade thrusting deep into the thick flesh of the arching grey-mottled throat. Embedded in muscle and bone, the blade held fast. Unable to withdraw it, Vintar released his grip on the weapon and threw himself backwards. With a gurgling groan, the grelfon’s massive head flopped backwards onto the blue-black feathered shoulders. Scaled and heavily muscled legs crumpled under the deep sinuous body, and with a splattering, squelching thud the creature collapsed to the ground, black leathery wings trembling and twitching.

Unprepared for the abhorrent and overpowering stench coupled with the sheer revulsion provoked by the sight of the grelfon, the majority of Vintar’s squad succumbed to overwhelming nausea. Leaning on their halberds they swayed weak-kneed around the creature as its bodily fluids drained and oozed into the ground beneath it. Still spasming in the final throes of death the corpse sank lower and lower. To the unnerving accompaniment of hissing, creaking sounds its substance rapidly diminished to become a huge, misshapen and rumpled black bag. Alongside, limp and grotesquely twisted lay the pathetically impotent wings.

Vintar scrambled to his feet. A couple of paces away lay the unmoving form of the young magician who had performed the audacious manoeuvre. Kneeling beside him, Vintar placed two fingers against Karryl’s throat. The pulse was faint but steady.

Over his shoulder he signalled to his squad. One by one, they made their way unsteadily towards him. “Make a litter, quickly!”

Totally dispirited by the whole episode, one of the soldiers made a gruff retort. “Litter! I think I need one meself.”

Vintar rose slowly to his full height, his expression thunderous. “That soldier! Confined to barracks for two weeks! Report to the Commanding Officer first duty in the morning! Return to the guardroom
now
. You’re fire piquet for the rest of the night. You others, make a litter!”

As the admonished soldier marched unhappily back towards the guardroom, the rest of the squad hurried forward. Laying their halberds across the ground in a much practiced manoeuvre, they formed a rectangular lattice. Vintar and his wiry lance-corporal lifted Karryl’s limp form onto the crossed staves, settling him as comfortably as they could on such a crude but necessary transport. Leaving the two most seasoned soldiers to guard the pungently repulsive corpse, Vintar and the litter party set off. Heavily booted feet trampled neatly manicured lawns in a direct line for the infirmary.

Half an hour later, the whole barracks was on full alert. No-one in the palace was thinking of going to bed. Rumours abounded and disjointed versions of events flew along brightly lit corridors and dim passageways as fast as circumstances and the feet of the tale-tellers would allow.

Leaving a weakened, groggy but conscious Karryl in the capable hands of one of her assistants, Mordas hurried to Symon’s room. As she had correctly guessed, he was out of bed and hopping impatiently from one foot to the other. With obvious reluctance a young orderly was taking the little magician’s clothes from a wooden chest against the wall.

Arms folded, Mordas looked at Symon as she would a naughty boy caught in the act of doing something he shouldn’t. “I hope you’re not thinking of actually going anywhere.”

Symon scowled at her as he waved a heavily bandaged hand towards his long under-shirt. “Of course I am. I can’t stay here with all this going on. As it is I’ve only heard half of a garbled story. All I can gather is that young Karryl was instrumental in the defeat of another grelfon and is currently sequestered within these walls. Now, if you’ll be so kind as to help me get into my shift and robe …”

Quietly telling her to attend in another room, Mordas took the under-shirt from the orderly’s trembling hand. Closing the door on her retreating form, the tall physician-mage looked down at Symon’s tousled head. “I strongly advise against your going anywhere at the moment. I have had the full story from Captain Vintar who was also heavily involved. I am also quite confident that our young magician is in no danger, just totally exhausted. He hardly had time to recoup his power before using another powerful spell which has completely drained him.”

Symon cocked his head to one side and impatiently raised his bandaged hands. “Tell me, what spell did he use?”

Mordas shook her head. “He didn’t say. He seemed reluctant to talk about it at all. From what Vintar told me, I would guess that Karryl inverted a spell of suspension then smothered the creature in its own poisonous black fluid.”

Symon grinned then winced as he inadvertently patted his bandaged hands together. “Good thinking. Couldn’t have done it better myself.” He stood pondering for a while, his gaze centred somewhere in the middle distance, then snapped back to the present. “Just the same, there are things I have to do. No doubt Vailin will be wanting to see me along with his other ministers. There’s now also another grelfon corpse to be disposed of. Do you know if the customary morbidly curious are being kept away?”

Mordas smiled as she settled herself on the foot of the bed. “Well, as it happened within palace boundaries and not all that far from the barracks, the only ones who would be able to get anywhere near it would be the kitchen and domestic staff, and they’ll be too busy preparing extra refreshments for anyone who’s been kept from their bed, which is not necessarily you.”

Symon gave a disgruntled growl, and went to look out of the window. It had been the sudden appearance of dozens of torches adding their light to the efforts of a week-old moon which had earlier alerted him to the fact that something else was happening. Now those torches burned steadily in their sconces, revealing everything around them and throwing criss-crossed shadows along the ground. Turning away from the window, Symon gave an almost petulant sigh as he watched Mordas returning his undershirt and robe to the chest. A sharp tapping on the door made them both turn. It was thrust open and Magnor, accompanied by another identically clad elder, strode into the room.

Trying as hard as he could to look dignified in the pale blue infirmary nightshirt, Symon raised a quizzical eye-brow. “Is this visit the result of some kind of precognition?”

Magnor slipped his hands into the sleeves of his silver-grey robe as he exchanged a glance with his companion. “Not at all, though that is not beyond the bounds of possibility. It was young Master Karryl who contacted us, although I’m at a loss to understand how he did it. The crux of the matter is, we have to discover the reason for the sudden arrival in Vellethen of these malconceived creatures. One thing we have already managed to discover is their place of origin.”

A knowing glint appeared in Symon’s grey eyes. “I have a feeling that Naboria might have something to do with it. Am I right?”

Once again Magnor exchanged a glance with his companion. “That’s very astute of you, Master Symon. However, my colleague Agmar has brought all his considerable powers to bear on this matter. The result is not encouraging. I will let Agmar tell you.”

Making a slight but respectful bow in Symon’s direction, the tall grey-haired elder fingered the blue jewel which hung at his chest. “Such a venerable and widely travelled man as your self will no doubt be aware of the myth concerning a hidden city far out in the Naborian desert. It is no longer myth but fact. The city is called Vedra, by implication the source of the evil and forbidden Vedric discipline of magic. This dark, sparsely inhabited city has become the well-head of this new breed of grelfon.”

Mordas stepped forward, her expression resolute as she folded her arms. “Then it seems we must combine forces and locate this city and destroy it, along with the denizens of evil who inhabit it.”

Agmar raised an admonishing finger. “That would be like poking a stick into a hornets’ nest. Those who suffer least are the hornets. No, first we have to establish the reason for the resurrection of these creatures, although it seems fairly certain that the city of Vellethen is their prime target. Why, we are not certain, as yet.”

“I think I know why.”

The four occupants of the room turned towards the direction of the voice. They had not heard the door being opened. To their surprise, Karryl, white-faced and weary, leaned with one hand on the doorpost.

Mordas hurried forward and guided him to the chair which stood by the bed. She scolded him gently. “You should be resting in your room. We were going to come and see you.”

Karryl ran his fingers through his thick dark hair. “You’re probably right, but I wanted to see Symon.” He looked around and gave a little lopsided grin. “I didn’t know you were having a party.”

Magnor stepped forward and looked down at the exhausted young magician. “Your visit is most opportune and welcome, especially as it seems you may have some answers to our questions.”

Karryl nodded and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He still wore his normal clothes. Small rips in his trousers along with the scrapes and scuffs on his boots, all bore witness to the strenuousness of his earlier efforts.

He pressed his knuckles against stinging eyes. “I’m pretty certain they’re after me, or something I’ve got, or even both.” Pulling his feet back he tucked them under the chair then leaned forward, elbows on knees. “A few years ago, when I’d just started my apprenticeship with Master Symon, my best friend Joel’s older brother Ghian set off back to Naboria. We saw him in the scrying bowl, being given something wrapped in a cloth but we couldn’t see what it was. I’m almost certain that the man who gave it to him was the same one who tricked our friend Dhoum into handing over the medallion at the City Museum. My guess is that Ghian now has it.”

Agmar clasped his hands behind his back and moved to stand beside Magnor. “So, what is the significance of this medallion?”

Karryl rubbed his hands over his dark-stubbled face, as if even thinking was an effort. “It’s one that Master Symon found during a part excavation of the old city by University archaeologists some years ago. No-one could understand the symbols on it, and as there were nine of them, superstition dictated it should be put away for safe keeping.” He leaned back and took a deep shuddering breath.

Magnor reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps Master Symon can tell us the rest?”

Karryl raised a hand. “No, I’m all right. I’m beginning to feel a bit better now; my head’s beginning to clear. One particular thing about this is that the medallion belongs with the book. It’s of no use without it, and without the medallion the book is just a very interesting lesson in spell-making and ancient history.”

Throwing propriety to the wind Agmar sat on the side of the bed. As Mordas was already sitting on the clothes chest, Symon gave a puff of resignation and sat himself down beside Agmar.

The grey-haired elder gave a slight frown. “Forgive my ignorance, but to what book are you referring?”

Karryl flapped a hand. “Oh! Sorry. Of course. It’s a very old book, quite heavy, bound in grelfon skin. I found it when I crossed the stream to explore an old cottage that Symon says wasn’t really there.” He gave Symon a reproachful sidelong glance. “It was when I was coming back with the book that I had my accident, which gave me this very retentive and analytical brain that I now have.”

The two elders touched their fingers to the blue jewels they wore and exchanged meaningful glances. Agmar spoke first. “This could well be the book spoken of in legend. If this is the case, I believe there is something more you have to tell us.”

Karryl nodded and gave Symon an apologetic look. “I only discovered this just a short while ago, even though I’ve been studying it all this time. I’m afraid I haven’t even told Master Symon about it yet.”

The little magician shot his apprentice an accusing glance. By way of apology Karryl shrugged. “You were out at the time and I never seemed to get round to it. Anyway, what it boils down to is, that the last dozen or so pages of the book are unreadable. The writing is quite clear but the language is different to the rest of the book. I could understand everything in it up to there. I came to the conclusion that it’s only by using the medallion in some way that those pages can be read. That’s when I made the discovery.”

The air of expectancy which filled the room was almost palpable as Karryl looked around, his brow slightly furrowed. “Could someone put a ward of silence round us? I don’t think I’ve even got that left at the moment.”

Karryl frowned as yet again he failed to grasp the recognition stirred by Magnor’s rumbling chuckle. “I did that as soon as you sat down. No-one will be able to make out anything except the murmur of voices. Now, please go on.”

Taking a deep breath Karryl wriggled into a more comfortable position. “Well, I was staring at those pages, turning them this way and that, hoping I’d see something. And I did. If you hold the pages against the light at a certain angle you can make out a perfect circle within the spaces between the words. Looking down at the page as you do when you’re reading normally, you can’t see it. I think that circle is probably the exact same size as the medallion. If it’s placed in that circle it’s a fair bet it will be possible to read the rest of the pages.”

Placing his forefingers together, Agmar tapped them against pursed lips. “So that’s what they’re after. But how do they know you’ve recovered the book? Have you spoken to anyone about it?”

Karryl didn’t answer for a while then his eyes widened as he was struck by a chilling thought. “Oh! No! He wouldn’t have!”

He looked round at each of them in turn, disbelief and anguish contorting his clean-cut features. “I told Joel about it a few days after I’d recovered from the accident! But he’s my best friend!”

Symon stood up and leaned towards his young apprentice. “He’s also Ghian’s brother.”

Karryl slumped dejectedly back in his chair. “If I’d known then what I know now I wouldn’t have said a word, but at the time Ghian was here in Vellethen. There didn’t seem to be any connection.”

Magnor’s tone was sympathetic. “We often see things more clearly in retrospect. Where has the book been kept all this time?”

Looking at Symon who was sitting on the bed again, Karryl flapped a listless hand towards him but said nothing.

The little magician, while trying to find somewhere comfortable to put his own hands, looked up. “I have a little cupboard sitting in a dimensional shift. When one of us is present, the cupboard is quite accessible and the book is kept inside. Needless to say, the cupboard is constantly warded.”

The two elders nodded tacit approval, turning to Karryl just in time to see him grin widely. “I’ve just had a thought. Somehow, the book is only attuned to me. In a way I can communicate with it as Symon has seen. It doesn’t take kindly to anyone else. So, even if Ghian or whoever it is gets hold of the book, it’s not going to let them work with it, is it?”

Symon poured cold water on that too. “Not unless they have the medallion and know what to do with it.”

Karryl slumped again, and sat picking at a rip in his trousers.

Agmar stood and looked down at the disconsolate young magician. “Don’t worry unduly at this stage. Thanks to you we have a lot more to work with, although time may be running short. The grelfons that were killed inside the palace were indeed young ones, we estimate about one third grown. We calculate they would not have been fully mature and in possession of their powers for about a year.”

Karryl shook his head. “I’m sure the one we killed on the slope behind the palace was bigger.”

Agmar turned towards the door. “We shall go and view the corpse then dispose of it as we did the others.”

With a lightly restraining hand on Agmar’s arm, Magnor looked down at Karryl still slumped in his seat. “How did you manage to summon me so quickly? I don’t recall telling you how.”

The young magician gave a self-conscious little smile. “It could have been my old ‘wilder’ power coming to the surface. I don’t really know. Everything was happening all at once. I seem to remember, I think it was just after I’d inverted the spell, that I wished you could be here to see this other grelfon. I didn’t deliberately summon you though.”